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Can Mom Have More Fun?

January 10, 2021 by Tasha Hackett 1 Comment

This post may contain affiliate links. For more information, please see our disclosure policy.

Can mom have more fun? Any fun at all? How is it even possible with all these responsibilities? I absolutely adore this post from Tasha. I cried through it, because my mom-life is full and amazing but hard and exhausting. I needed this. I’m guessing you might too…

Can Mom Have More Fun?

by Tasha Hackett

Being a mother is amazing. A-ma-zing. But being trapped and tied down weighs on me until I might crumble. When all the parts of me that made me Tasha turn into Mom Mom Mom Mom, I begrudge this life that I find myself in. Sometimes it appears I’ve forgotten how to have fun as a mother. This post is because I know I’m not alone. I know I’m not the only overwhelmed mom out there who needs to hear this.

Why is it hard for moms to have more fun?

Of course it’s a foolish thing to wish myself out of where I am. I mean, come on! This is my happily ever after! This is the life I always wanted, always assumed I would have. As a kid, I hardly had any career goals because I knew I would be home with my kids doing all the things I loved–cooking, creating things, teaching my kids, singing, playing, holding babies and going on adventures with my mom friends and their kids. But instead I’m stuck doing laundry, and dishes, and managing the budget, and sweeping the floor over and over and over again until I’m staring at this home I’ve built around me and wanting to take a sledge hammer to all of it and go live in a cabin in the woods–which I would hate by the way, unless my family came with me because I totally love them. 

As it turns out, God absolutely and completely knew what he was doing when he gave me these kids. Motherhood is a baptism by fire, and it’s growing me into a woman of courage and strength and refining me into something beautiful. (Right?! God love me for it, but I am so stinkin’ broken.)

tasha and baby

Why is the fun gone?

You know why. For those of us who are in the grind of raising little tiny kids, we have routines that must be abided. We mothers are stressed by all the things we’re in charge of rattling around in our brains. When meals, sleep, and routines get out of whack, everyone pays for it. The energy it takes to simply survive doesn’t always leave much room to have more “fun.” Now, let’s be clear. I am not talking about creating more fun for the kids. No, I’m not worried about their fun. They get to play, play, play all the live-long day. I’m interested in mothers. Why aren’t we having fun? As a parent, am I having fun? Am I fun? What used to be fun? Is it still fun? Why not? What else can I do that makes me happy? 

tasha

Side story about how much fun I had the past three years. 

Incidentally, the past three years have been a doozy. Blessings upon blessings, but also a pile of personal, internal, trials. In the meantime, I thought it would be a good idea to start my writing career. Maybe not the best timing with the whole birthing of the fourth child and all. 

But here I am, and writing has been so much stinking fun. 

During the first lock-down of the pandemic, the husband worked from the basement. I seized the opportunity of the extra time and support and finished my novel, Bluebird on the Prairie. I don’t tell you this to brag . . . nope, okay, I’m bragging a little. . . but mostly because I am amazed and full of joy at having completed such a magnanimous accomplishment that I can’t help sharing it. Was it ever so much work? Yes. Girl… yes. So. Much. Work. Guess what else it was? Rewarding. And, you guessed it. Fun! It was fun. 

A crazy thing about writing books is how much I learn from my characters when they start speaking all by themselves and spout off random bits of wisdom that I never could have thought up on my own. They’re smart like that.

Please read this scene snippet that tugs at my heart: 

Zeke lowered himself to the ground and leaned against the tree. “It’s not that I’m not grateful, because I am. But I can’t . . . I’m not a farmer. I don’t want to be a farmer.” He set his hat on the ground. Running both hands through his hair before clasping them behind his neck, he sighed. “I don’t know, Chipmunk, do you ever feel like everyone’s got a plan for your life, and forgot to ask how you felt about it first?” 

“Why do you call me Chipmunk?”

He grinned at her. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

She pulled a handful of grass and threw it at him. The wind caught most of it and she watched it drift. “I envy you.”

“How so?” 

“You wanted to go, so you did. To have that kind of freedom. To be brave enough to take a chance.” 

“Stupid enough, you mean. Did you get a good look at the goober who fell on his face? That man was lonely, dirty, and starving.” 

Eloise did remember, and blushed thinking of it. If it hadn’t been for her standing in the creek only half dressed, he never would have fallen. “At least you keep smiling through it,” she said, “I don’t know how to have fun anymore.”

“I just do what makes me happy. Within reason . . . Fried chicken? Makes me happy. Catching frogs? Makes me happy. Singing? Makes me happy. What makes you happy? Do that.” He shrugged, like there was nothing to it.

What did make her happy? There were things she used to do for fun, but when put to the question she was stumped. 

Zeke prodded. “There isn’t anything you do, that makes all the bad stuff disappear for a while?” 

“I don’t know. If there is, I’ve forgotten.”

Can I share a fun secret? 

Fun doesn’t need to be extravagant. Sometimes I forget to be happy. It’s wrong and it’s not God’s plan for me. Sometimes I don’t know how to have more fun as a mother. I get so caught up in what I can’t do and what I wish I could be doing, that I don’t make use of the fun freely available. One of the things that brings me joy is writing. And so I do, and I did. Laura lets me talk to you and I have dreams of many more novels to come! But… the simple, freely-available-doesn’t-cost-anything fun? That comes from a spirit of peace. A peace that knows my kids are well loved, even if their rooms are a mess because I haven’t properly trained them on how to keep them tidy. A peace that extends to the husband when he’s 20 minutes later coming home from work than I expected.

tasha and kids

Peace comes from knowing I am worthy of God’s love. 

Listen up, friend. You are worthy of God’s love. He didn’t raise his son from the dead for someone he didn’t love. He didn’t come back from the grave for us to walk about the house grumpy about laundry! I believe He wants us to have life, and have it to the fullest–not just later, but now! Absolutely we are called to sacrifice so much of ourselves. But nobody ever asked us to stop having fun, we did that all on our own. 

Here’s how I had fun today: 

  • When the kids played in the yard, I read a book for 45 minutes. 
  • When the kids asked for a snack I opened a jar of peanuts and gave it to them. And then showed off, unsuccessfully, how I could throw and catch one in my mouth.
  • While the baby played with a stack of books I got on my hands and knees and growled at him until he looked my way, then I slinked towards him like a tiger. He squealed and laughed at me. 
  • I was blasting show tunes on my phone when Ben came home from work (20 minutes late), and as I sang along, I started dancing for him. He pulled me into his arms, twirled me around a few times and dipped me over his knee before the kids claimed his attention. 
  • At dinner I shared a new book idea with the kids and asked them to come up with any funny things that might happen to my characters. 

You are pretty when you smile.

Yeah, okay. I know. Sometimes life is really really hard. I understand hard. I’ve been there, and I’m still there sometimes. To be perfectly honest, I don’t want to get out of bed most mornings because I dread the tasks ahead. Being a mom and the humility, compassion, empathy, and selflessness that needs to come with that is the hardest thing. I’m a work-in-progress. 

A few years ago I laughed at something and my, then five-year-old, son said, “Mom! You’re so pretty when you smile.” And it broke my heart in a million tiny pieces because what he really said was, “I haven’t seen you smile in a long time.”

ben and tasha

Do it for you.

Can you find ways to have more fun? I don’t know everything going on in your life that’s causing you so much stress you’ve forgotten how to have fun. But I can guess at some of it. Here’s a hint: Don’t make food harder than it has to be. Laura’s given us way too many resources and recipes for us to be wasting time complaining about kitchen duty. 

I’m not even going to leave you with scientific facts about how laughing is healthy and makes you live longer. Nope. How about we make time for fun, simply because fun is fun? Nobody goes to bed thinking, “Man, I wish I hadn’t had so much fun today.” 


Tasha HackettTasha Hackett, author of Bluebird of the Prairie, (a heartwarming romance releasing Spring 2021), is fueled by sunshine or hot chocolate—whichever is more readily available. She pretends to be a ballerina while cleaning the kitchen and can sing along to every word of every Wee-Sing Silly Songs album. Four children and a husband have filled her days with more than enough to keep her busy, but creative hobbies continually find their way onto her to-do list. You can connect with her on Instagram @hackettacademy or for Laura @heavenlyhomemaker. 

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Holidays? Moms Need Help in the Trenches

November 23, 2020 by Tasha Hackett Leave a Comment

This post may contain affiliate links. For more information, please see our disclosure policy.

Whatever time of year, I can attest to the fact that moms need help. But during the holidays, we may need help even more and in a different way. Enjoy this gem from Tasha…

Holidays? Moms Need Help in the Trenches

By Tasha Hackett

When moms need help desperately but don’t even know where to start…

Shucks, life is fun, amiright? Those cute baby snuggles, warm apple pie, bright orange leaves in piles, glittering snow, creamy hot-chocolate, sizzling butter and garlic… mmmm. But geez, Moms need help. I need help. We mothers of young people are overwhelmed. The close-knit communities aren’t there anymore. Everyone has their own life and responsibilities. Social media, though originally designed to bring us together, only makes us feel worse. With the holidays upon us, where can I even start to get help? 

“Happiness is a decision,” said the well-meaning, but unhelpful person.

I’m sure you’ve heard that before. Happiness is a decision. For the overwhelmed mom, that is as unhelpful as telling her, “Enjoy them! They grow up so fast.” (Read Laura’s post on what to say instead.) Truthfully, it’s not helpful to say either of those things to the mother who dreads going to sleep at night because she knows the baby is going to wake in 45 minutes and then cry for the next two hours before he sleeps for another 45 … and the mother who dreads the morning because the other three littles are going to want to eat and wear clothes and they’re going to chatter and need love and attention and they’ll play and make messes.

Perhaps that mom is dealing with a cloud of emotional strain and doesn’t even know what she needs because her brain is overwhelmed from the aforementioned sleep deprivation and she forgot to eat food again. (Would it fool anyone if I said these were hypothetical examples? I was there last year.)

To quote Rabbit and Winnie-the-Pooh, “How about Lunch?”

Don’t tell her happiness is a decision, what she needs is (Okay, yes, Jesus. She needs Jesus, but also,) sleep. She needs sleep and she needs food, and she needs to know that she is in a place that won’t last forever. Her people need to support her with prayers for peace from the Holy Spirit in order to fully embrace life at home with littles. What really helps her is an older mom to say, “It’s gonna be okay. And I’ll bring dinner over at 5:00 pm.” And when that is offered, she needs to accept it and say, “Thank you.” If all the real moms will please stand up and support each other, we’ll be okay.

Moms need help. Mmk? We may need lots of help for the Holidays. The sooner we can embrace that, the happier we will be. 

When my firstborn was a few months old, Ben and I had opposite shifts. I worked days, he worked evenings and weekends. Saturdays were LOOOOONG. I was 100% an extravert (still am), trapped at home for 12 hours with a tiny baby that didn’t sleep much and cried when left alone. The emotional strain to be EVERYTHING for this tiny human ate at my core and I was isolated, worn out, drained, and lonely. 

I was (am) an interesting person with a broad skill set and none of that mattered on a twelve-hour workday with an infant. What mattered was giving, and giving, and giving. Spit-up on my pants, milk stains on my shirts, the house falling apart, chores half-done… you know. Foremost priority was loving this child, but it was breaking me in two.

One evening I sucked up my pride and walked myself to the neighbors: “I need help. I feel like I’m falling to pieces. He cries unless I hold him, and I’ve hardly been able to eat and I could really use a shower. Would you be willing to keep him for half an hour?” She said she’d gladly hold him for as long I needed. I showered. Cried. I ate some food. Cried. I pulled myself together and went back to claim my baby. He was happy. The neighbors were happy. And that evening will stick with me forever as the first time I was brave enough to ask for help. 

What does this have to do with moms and help for the holidays?

This season is going to be different. Know your limits and go easy on yourself. Don’t try to make everything perfect. Ask for help. Take time to enjoy this season as best as you can. Have fun. 

As a mother, wife, and homemaker, why do we play the martyr when no one has asked it of us? I’ve been in hard places far too many times the past eight years where the service of my community has kept me from falling apart. 

I’m afraid to share this because you may be astounded, “Tasha sounds depressed! She has anxiety.” What if you read this and think, “I can’t relate to this at all. Tasha needs help…” Um… yes. That’s the whole thing here. I do need help, but listen up, I’ve talked with many other young moms and we are all in the same boat! Some more than others, of course, but the general consensus is that WE DON’T HAVE IT FIGURED OUT. The water is pouring in faster than we can bail it out. We are in desperate need of older women to come alongside and get into the trenches to show us the way out.

Calling all experienced mothers! Moms need help! 

In tears, five years ago I called an older friend, (her youngest was six, oldest in high school,). I was home with a baby and a chatty 3-year-old. I said, “I have to get out. Can you come? I just need 10 minutes.” She said, “I’ll be there in five.” 

No joke. I had my coat on, boots tied, and was pulling on my gloves when she pulled into my driveway. I left the house and took off running. Literally. I’m sure I was a sight. I made it three blocks before I slowed because January-in-Nebraska. Five degrees is too cold to be gulping air. 

I let the wind suck my breath away. Crying, I begged God to bring me peace. What was wrong with me that I couldn’t enjoy my two precious babies? 

Dear mothers of young children, you are not broken. 

Author Johann Hari says to those with depression/anxiety, “You are not broken, you’re not weak, you’re not crazy. You’re not a machine with broken parts, you are a human being whose needs are not being met.” Loneliness, loss of control of your environment, the inability to get outside, feeling your life has no purpose, not feeling valued, emotional needs that are not being met, grief (perhaps the grief of lost freedoms?) are all causes of depression and anxiety. (Watch his TED Talk here.) If you’d like to learn more about this, read Hari’s book Lost Connections. He is not a Christian, but his research is phenomenal and while reading his book, I was astounded at how many things correlated with the overwhelm that is common with stay-at-home moms. 

tasha

Help for the weary (even during the holidays)

God promises rest for the weary and my logical brain argues, “Yea, but… you gave me four kids.” He promises peace and I say, “Yea, but, somebody still has to make food and do dishes.” When he reprimands Martha and nods in approval at Mary sitting at his feet, I say, “Mmmk…. But, I have toddler boys who literally pee all over the toilet and the floor.” 

Laura keeps reminding us that Jesus takes over and it’s not her doing it, but him. What does that look like? I think it looks like being able to have fun, being at peace, even while wiping pee off the floor. 

For the older moms: 

Look around your community and find a young mother to adopt.

Pray for the young mothers by name and ask for peace.

For the younger moms: 

  • Know your limits.
  • Use simple meals when time and brain power is limited.
  • Ask for help.
  • Hire help if you can.
  • Set limits for yourself for what you can realistically accomplish.
  • Don’t be a martyr when no one is asking it of you.
  • Reach out to other young moms and get together regularly.
  • Go outside at least once a day.
  • Buy the High Five Recipes Printed Cookbook or Simple Real Food Recipes Cookbook for every adult (especially single adult brothers) on your Christmas list and consider your shopping done.
  • Stop praying for God to take away the trials, instead pray for peace.
  • Stop praying for patience, instead pray for peace.
  • Pray for peace.
  • Start a gratitude journal—it will be a blessing to look over it later.

Isaiah 40:11 “He gently leads those that have young.”

This is a revealing post. Rest assured, I am doing okay. Know why? Because I am continually asking for help. My heart aches for moms whose needs are not being met. I implore you to seek help. Help for moms can come in many different forms. For me, I’ve received it from doctors, counselors, parents, siblings, friends, neighbors, bible class teachers, elders, cousins, college roommates, my fitness coach, my husband, the librarian, and even my best friend from preschool.

Truly, you do not have to do this alone.


Tasha HackettTasha Hackett, friend of Laura, has four chatty children and a wonderfully supportive husband. It’s possible she was born in the wrong century, as she always dreamed of being friends with Laura Ingalls and Anne Shirley. Her debut novel, Bluebird on the Prairie, a historical romance set in 1879 Nebraska, will release Spring 2021. The clumsy antics of the hero, huge misunderstandings, and a humorous brother/sister relationship will keep you smiling, but you may need a tissue as the heroine works through grief. Thankfully, word on the street is the story has a happily ever after.

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